


New York State of Mind

by Jo (jmathieson)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:49:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2183730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That YouTube clip of Jeremy Renner singing “New York State of Mind” on <i>Late Night with Jimmy Fallon</i> came across my tumblr dash the other day, and it’s been stuck in my head ever since, so here, have a fic:</p>
            </blockquote>





	New York State of Mind

“Right, that’s everything outstanding, so if you want to call it a night…” Phil Coulson shuffled the last stack of papers into a folder and looked over at where Clint was lounging on his office sofa.

“Yeah, thanks boss. Been a long day.” Clint stuffed his feet into his boots and hauled himself off the sofa.

“I’m heading out too, can I give you a lift to your place?”

“Thanks, really. But, ah, I think I’ll walk a bit. Maybe stop for a drink somewhere or something.”

Phil thought that was odd, but he didn’t say anything. He knew Clint rarely drank, and then usually only to be sociable when someone handed him a beer. A tiny spark of worry flared, but he quashed it.

“Well, good night then,” Phil said with a small smile.

Clint sketched a wave as he headed out of Phil’s office, and Phil quickly put his paperwork in order, switched off his computer and followed.

He wasn’t looking around for Clint in particular (he told himself) when he pulled out of the SHIELD parking structure, but he did happen to see a distinctive silhouette heading east on Broadway. Phil would later swear up and down that he had no idea why he did it, but he pulled the non-descript sedan in beside a fire hydrant, stuck the “Agent on Duty” card on the dash, and followed. He lost sight of Clint at West 72nd, and hung back for a bit, wanting to make sure Clint hadn’t spotted his tail and was lying in wait to (completely justifiably) demand what the hell Phil was doing.

When he turned the corner, Clint was nowhere in sight. Phil, feeling spectacularly foolish, picked a direction and told himself that he was just going to walk a block or two before going back to his car. Five blocks later he turned and headed back the way he’d come. He stopped at the corner of Broadway, telling himself to go back to the car. To go home. To get a good night’s sleep. But the little spark of worry that had flared when Clint said he was ‘going out for a drink’ wouldn’t let him. Phil turned the other way and walked, looking carefully at the buildings he passed.

Which is how he spotted the small sign advertising 'Open Mic Night at Jerry’s' with an arrow pointing down an alleyway. Phil stopped again, shrugged to check the set of his holster across his shoulders, and looked carefully around, making sure it wasn’t a trap of some kind. Then he followed the sign.

Which led him down a set of steps, through a door, and into the vestibule of a small, dimly lit bar. Phil kept to the shadows and blinked. Clint was on stage, sitting on a wooden stool, bathed in the light of a few spotlights. There was a microphone on a stand in front of him and a lead plugged into the butt of the acoustic guitar in his hands. Clint was singing. He seemed to be half way through _Patience_ by Guns 'N Roses. His voice was… it was incredible. Phil had had no idea that Clint could sing, especially that well. Phil was captivated. He should leave. Now that he knew Clint was fine, and that ‘going for a drink’ was a cover for something that was obviously very private to him. The song ended, and Clint got an enthusiastic round of applause. Phil froze, waiting to see if Clint was going to leave the stage, but he just smiled, settled himself on his stool and launched into _More Than Words_.

Phil pressed himself further into the dark corner, then spotted a free stool at the end of the bar, almost around the corner from the stage, where he'd be mostly invisible. He slipped onto it, and said, “Scotch,” distractedly when the bartender asked him what he wanted to drink. He watched and listened transfixed, as Clint sang out his heart and soul, wistfulness clear on his face. Clint segued into _Can’t Fight This Feeling_ , and Phil took a rather larger sip of his drink than he’d intended. The car would be fine. He could cab home if necessary.

Clint finished the song and the applause burst forth again. Clint smiled and said a simple "Thanks," before taking a swig of water from a bottle at his feet and then fiddling with his guitar for a minute. The bartender came over and offered to freshen Phil's drink.

Phil shook his head, his eyes still on the stage. The bartender followed his gaze with a knowing smile.

"He's quite something, isn't he? The boss is after him to quit his day job and work here every night."

"Does he sing here often?" Phil asked. He couldn't help himself.

"No, once a month if we're lucky. And months go by sometimes without him coming in."

"Of course." Phil nodded. When they were on a long mission, or Clint was laid up in Medical, he wouldn't be here singing.

The bartender's eyes sharpened. "You know him?"

"We, ah... work together." Phil wasn't sure why he let that slip. But he wasn't sure why he'd done any of the things he'd done so far this evening, except that... it was Clint.

"You're Phil?" the bartender asked, his eyebrows going up into his hairline. Phil didn't know whether to be concerned or insulted.

"Are you a... friend?" Phil asked, now completely unsure of his footing.

"No, I'm his bartender."

"He doesn't drink," Phil said, and the spark of worry flared again.

"No, he finishes his set and then sits here at the bar nursing a single beer and moping."

It was surprising how easily Phil could picture Clint sitting at this bar after a set with a long-necked beer bottle dangling from his long, slim fingers, his expression distant and a little sad.

"Is this his usual repertoire?" Phil asked.

"Songs of longing and unrequited love, yep, those are his specialty. There's not a dry eye in the place when he does _New York Minute_."

The bartender seemed about to say something else, but Clint was finished retuning his guitar and he tapped the microphone.

"Um, so I'm going to finish up with a couple of Elton John tunes -" there were a couple of cheers from the audience. "Uh, thanks. And, uh they're for someone who's" Clint's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "Someone who means the world to me," Clint said, looking directly at Phil. Phil could feel himself flushing as Clint's sharp eyes held him, and he reached for his drink again when Clint lowered his head to strum the first few chords of _Your Song_.

 

_"It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside. I'm not one of those who can easily hide..."_

 

Phil looked back towards the stage to see Clint's eyes on him again. Phil's chest went tight, and his hands started to tremble slightly. Phil put his drink down and gripped the edge of the bar as if he might fall off his barstool otherwise. Clint's smile as he sang, ' _I sat on the roof, and kicked off the moss_ ,' was his trademark cocky grin, and Phil found himself smiling back. He wondered if Clint could see that past the glare of the lights. He watched Clint's eyes slip closed as he sang:

 

_"Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen."_

 

Phil's heart was thudding in his chest and he forced himself to breath slowly and calmly.

  
_"I hope you don't mind, that I put down in words,_   
_how wonderful life is that you're in the world."_

 

Clint was smiling at him again, and Phil was smiling back, so widely his face ached. He knew he probably looked like a complete idiot, but he couldn't stop. Clint went straight into _The One_ , singing the first verse with his eyes closed and pouring the words straight out of his heart

  
_"In the instant that you love someone, In the second that the hammer hits,_   
_reality runs up your spine, and the pieces finally fit."_

 

Phil wasn't sure what exactly was running up his own spine. Longing and fear and love and lust and a desperate, desperate hope that he wasn't reading this wrong. That he wasn't imagining Clint looking straight at him, pouring his heart out through song. But the pieces did fit. There had been hints over the past year, long unguarded looks and slightly-too-frequent 'casual' touches, the feeling of slowly crawling under each other's skin, a sense of rightness that Phil knew they both felt when they were together. He'd followed Clint tonight because Clint has said few words that were out of character. That was all it had taken.

Clint's head was thrown back, his long lean throat glistening with sweat under the lights, muscles working as he sang.

 

" _When stars collide like you and I, shadows block the sun_ ,"

 

Clint shifted, his head coming back up, his eyes opening and his body leaning slightly forward as if he was trying to bridge the gap between the stage and the back corner of the bar where Phil sat. His eyes caught Phil's.

 

" _You're all I ever needed, baby you're the one._ "

 

Phil was rooted to his stool, not moving, barely breathing as Clint sang. To him. For him. There were a hundred people in the bar, but for all Phil cared they were completely alone, and finally daring to cross that line.

The song ended the applause and cheers, and the noise snapped the spell for Phil. He saw Clint climbing off his stool and a trio of other musicians coming onto the stage with instruments. Phil stood up and started fumbling for his wallet to pay for his drink. Now that he would have to face Clint, admit that he had followed him, find out if this... thing between them was real, Phil was suddenly close to panic.

"Thank you, goodnight," Clint was saying on stage and unplugging his guitar and unhooking the strap.

"One last song," called out someone from a table near the front, as the musicians behind Clint, who appeared to be a jazz trio, were setting up and tuning.

"New York State of Mind," called someone else, and Clint gave an embarrassed grin.

"Sorry folks, not tonight," Clint was looking towards where Phil was dropping a couple of bills on the bar, and Phil knew he only had seconds to make his escape.

The bartender came over, leaned towards him, and said, "Stay. He would want you to stay." Phil looked at the bartender, and then back to Clint who was hovering uncertainly on the stage now, as a couple of other patrons had taken up the cajoling for Clint to sing one more song. The jazz trio started up _New York State of Mind_ , and there was a ragged cheer.

Phil sat down. Clint smiled a relieved smile, and hooked his guitar back up. The audience applauded, and Clint turned to look at his fellow musicians as they played the lead in. Then he spun back around, and Clint the Showman took over, belting out the song and playing the room. Gone was the lovelorn soulfulness, replaced with a simple love of the music and the song. He brought the house down, and Phil found himself on his feet clapping with everyone else when it was done.

Clint thanked the audience and the other musicians, who swung into a grinding, smoky version of _Rhapsody in Blue_. 'How could I not take the chance?' Phil wondered. If there was any chance at all that Clint was interested in him, he intended to grab it with both hands. The bartender put a second scotch in front of him.

"Looks like you might need this," he said with a grin, and turned to get a beer out of the cooler. Phil saw Clint making his way from the side of the stage down the bar towards him, and took a small sip of the drink, ready to face whatever came next.

Clint walked up to him with a small, uncertain smile, and then turned to accept a beer from the bartender.

"Thanks Isaac," Clint said, taking a swig and then setting the bottle on the bar before turning to Phil.

"That was... You were amazing," Phil said, wanting to make sure that if nothing else, he managed to let Clint know just how impressed he had been by his performance.

"Thanks. You followed me?" Clint asked, reaching for his beer again, but not drinking any, just toying with the bottle.

"You said you were going for a drink. You don't drink." Phil could feel his ears going pink. "I..."

"You what, Phil?" Clint's eyes were fixed on him, demanding honesty.

"I was worried something might be wrong."

Clint nodded, as if that made all the sense in the world. His eyes were still on Phil. Phil's heart was pounding and his palms were sweating. Clint had made his move from the stage, and now it was Phil's turn.

"When you were singing, you, ah, seemed to be looking at me. As if... as if you meant something by it. Did you?" Phil stumbled through his question, his eyes never leaving Clint's impossibly bright ones.

"What would you do if I said yes?" Clint asked, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously.

"I'd ask you to come back to my place tonight," Phil said, and before he could add 'so that we could talk about it,' Clint was signaling the bartender.

"Could you call us a cab, Isaac?"

Isaac sketched a salute and dug out his phone. Clint was already heading towards the door as Phil pulled out his wallet.

"It's on the house," Isaac said, covering the mouthpiece of his phone. "We owe Clint about twenty beers, 'cause he's allowed two and he only ever drinks one. Get going," he said, with a jerk of his chin towards Clint's back.

Phil hurried out of the bar after Clint. When they got to the sidewalk, Clint turned, and Phil suddenly became acutely aware of the fact that they hadn't even touched yet. Phil stepped forward into Clint's space, his arms hanging loosely by his sides.

"Phil?"

"Yes?"

"I'm gonna kiss you now, okay?"

"Yes."

Clint smiled a small, slightly nervous smile and slid his hands into Phil's suit jacket, resting his palms on Phil's waist and stroking his thumbs along Phil's ribs. Phil's heart pounded and he didn't quite manage to stifle a small gasp. Clint looked a little worried, so Phil put one hand on his arm, just below the edge of his t-shirt sleeve, skin-to-skin, and gave a reassuring squeeze. That made Clint smile and start to lean in.

Phil kept his eyes open just long enough to make sure they weren't going to bump noses, then let them close. Clint's lips were warm and dry and soft against his. They kissed gently. Carefully. The jazz music from the bar drifted softly out of the alley, and Phil inched closer, wanting to sink into the heat of Clint's body. His free hand found its way to the back of Clint's neck. Phil had just parted his lips to take his first taste of Clint's mouth when the cab pulled up and tapped its horn.

Clint tightened his grip on Phil for an instant and then let go. They climbed into the cab, and Phil gave the cabbie his address, and then sank back into the seat and buckled up. He looked over at Clint who was turned towards him.

"So," Phil said "this has been a while coming."

"Yeah. I... I guess I never really thought it would. I mean I hoped, but I never figured I had a real chance."

Phil opened his mouth to reply, then something struck him.

"You forgot your guitar!"

Clint grinned. "No, it's not mine. It's just an old one they have backstage. That's why it needs so much re-tuning during a set. I..." Clint dropped his eyes, "If I had to go home and get my guitar, I'd never work up the courage to go back out, know what I mean? I just... sometimes, when I'm all wound up... I like knowing I can just drop in and they'll let me play, you know?"

Phil nodded. He didn't understand having that kind of an outlet, not really, but he could see how much it meant to Clint, and that was enough. Phil put his hand out, palm up, on the seat between them and Clint laced his fingers through Phil's.

"Look, Phil, this... Well it's something I've wanted for a long time. I, uh, want you to know it's not just a one-night thing. For me, I mean."

The raw vulnerability on Clint's face squeezed Phil's heart, and he wished he could pull Clint into his arms and promise him forever. Instead he squeezed Clint's hand.

"I'm glad. I feel the same way."

"Good. That's good," Clint said, blushing a little.

The cab pulled up in front of Phil's apartment, and Clint had handed the cabbie a couple of bills by the time Phil had hitched his way across the seats so as not to open his door into traffic. Clint had been to Phil's place often enough that they moved easily together through to lobby and up the three flights of stairs. Phil unlocked his door, and crossed the room to punch in the alarm code. He turned, stripping off his tie and opening the top two buttons of his shirt, and shrugged out of his suit jacket in an automatic gesture. Then he stopped.

Normally he'd head into the bedroom to hang up the jacket and tie, and change out of his pants and dress shirt into comfy clothes, but with Clint here... Phil hung the jacket and tie over the back of a chair, and it seemed like Clint had been waiting for his hands to be free, because Clint stepped into his space, put his hands back on Phil's waist, and kissed him again.

Unlike the soft, gentle kisses outside the bar, these were passionate and insistent. Phil threaded one hand into Clint's hair and kissed back just as enthusiastically. He opened his mouth to admit Clint's tongue and molded his body to Clint's until they were touching from shoulders to knees. He let himself sink into the almost-forgotten feeling of touching and being touched, of being held in someone's arms, of being wanted.

Clint pulled back for breath and almost immediately started to kiss along Phil's jaw, nuzzling his nose under Phil's ear, singing softly for a moment: " _Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen._ "

Phil didn't know how to respond to that, or even if he should, but he decided it gave him license to slide his hand under the hem of Clint's t-shirt and up the smooth, warm skin of his back. Clint shivered.

"Wanted this for so long," Clint said, kissing Phil's jaw again and moving his hands to the buttons of Phil's shirt. As he unbuttoned, he kissed the hollow of Phil's throat, then his collar bone, then -

"Clint." It came out a breathy moan, which was not what Phil had intended. "Clint." He tried again, pulling back a little this time. Clint froze.

"What's wrong?" Clint's eyes were full of apprehension all of a sudden, and Phil kicked himself for putting it there.

"Nothing, nothing, it's just that..." Phil uncharacteristically trailed off.

"Talk to me Phil. What is it?"

"I... I'm 47 years old."

Clint's guarded expression softened into a smile, and he leaned in to nuzzle Phil's neck again.

" _Y_ _ou're all I've ever needed, baby y_ _ou're the one_ ," he sang, and then said, "I'm in love with you, Phil. There's no way I'm going to be disappointed."

Phil's heart skipped a beat at the idea that Clint was actually in love with him, and that he was willing to admit it. Out loud.

"Besides," Clint pulled back just far enough so that Phil could see his dancing eyes. “It's not like I've never seen you naked before."

"What? When?" Phil wasn't a prude, but he was... conservative. And though they'd shared locker rooms and safe houses and even sleeping bags, Phil was pretty sure he'd always had some clothes on when Clint was around.

"The op in Poughkeepsie, last year."

"I don't think being covered in green ooze counts, Barton," Phil said with a quirk of a smile.

"Oh, I don't mean while you were covered in ooze. I mean after, in the decontamination showers. You had your arms held out to the side and your face turned up to the spray - "

"Yes, I was hoping that the green ooze hadn't blinded me," Phil said, a little exasperated.

"Your face was turned up to the spray," Clint continued, leaning in to nuzzle Phil's jaw again, and moving his hands back to Phil's shirt buttons. "And the water was running down your chest and stomach, rinsing all the green ooze off. I was so worried at first that you were hurt, but you looked fine, and there you were standing under the cold water as if it was the best thing ever." Clint had unbuttoned Phil's shirt, and Phil sucked in his stomach to make it easier for Clint to tug his shirttails out of his pants.

"Ever since then, I've wanted to do this," Clint said, laying his hands on Phil’s' ribs and sliding them up into the wiry fuzz on Phil's chest. Phil gasped as Clint's palms brushed over his nipples, and he took Clint's mouth in a deep, filthy kiss, hitching Clint's t-shirt up in an effort to tug it off. It got tangled at Clint's armpits, and they separated, laughing a little as Clint stripped off his t-shirt and then wrapped his arms around Phil, pressing their bare chests together and kissing Phil deeply.

When they next came up for air, Phil started to move them towards his bedroom.

"Come fulfill my fantasies of having you naked in my bed," Phil said, his libido having taken over control of his mouth.

"Fantasies, huh?" Clint grinned, and Phil just kissed him once more, then grabbed his arm and led the way.

Moments later they were laying on Phil's bed, Clint on top, supporting his weight on his knees and one elbow, the other hand cupping Phil’s cheek as they kissed. Phil put his hands on the button of Clint's jeans.

"Um," Clint said, pulling his mouth away from Phil's. Phil, even through the haze of lust, knew that tone well enough to pause. "I, uh, didn't plan this. I usually make sure before my pants come off that there's... um..."

"Lube is in the nightstand, condoms I'll need to go get from the bathroom cabinet," Phil said, and if his voice took on some of the cadence he used during a mission briefing, he hoped Clint would forgive him.

"I'm, uh, clean." Clint blushed a little again. "Jus' saying. I've had half-a dozen blood tests since the last time I had sex, so... if you want. This is if you... " Clint trailed off, looking miserable, so Phil kissed him.

"Okay, since we're having this discussion," Phil dropped his hands from Clint's fly. "I'm clean too, so we can skip the condoms."

"But?" Clint could see in Phil's expression that there was something else, and Phil sighed.

"I should probably tell you that I haven't been to bed with another man since college." Clint froze, and fear spiked through Phil. "I'm bisexual. There's no question about that. I promise you that I won't freak out once we get naked. It's just that I joined the army, and it was years before 'Don't Ask - Don't Tell,' so it was just easier... And then after..." Phil's words fumbled to a halt, but Clint was still looking at him, and so he sucked in a breath and continued. "After, I dated both men and women, but I'm not a one-night-stand kind of guy... And I just never seemed to make it past the second or third date with men..." Phil looked down, hiding from Clint's eyes.

"Phil, come here." Clint gathered Phil into his arms and kissed him softly. "I love you and I want you. But I don't want to push you or rush you or - "

Phil interrupted Clint by kissing him fiercely and grabbing his butt, pulling their groins together so that Clint could feel exactly to what extent he didn't feel pushed or rushed...

"Fuck," Clint groaned.

"Yes please," Phil answered, and decided that the best way to reassure Clint and to move things along was to get rid of his own pants, so he started to fumble one-handed with the catch on his trousers.

"Phil, let me?" Clint asked, putting his hand over Phil's and looking imploringly into his eyes.

"Sure," Phil smiled, and lay back.

"Speaking of fantasies, I have fantasies about undressing you," Clint said, and then he kissed Phil's jaw. Phil made a vaguely interrogative noise.

"We're in a hotel room or a safe house at the end of a long op." Clint kissed down Phil's throat between snatches of words. "You're tired, so you're letting me take care of you. I take off your jacket and tie and I hang them over a chair, just like you did in the living room. Then I slowly unbutton your shirt, and kiss you." Clint kissed across Phil’s collarbone and then down his chest, pausing to nibble lightly with his lips at Phil's nipples and nose through the hair on Phil's chest. Clint ducked his head lower, and Phil tried to calm his breathing so that he could hear Clint's soft words.

"I love that you let me do this, that you trust me, that you want me, that I get to do this for you," Clint said, unfastening Phil's pants and sliding them down his legs. Phil gasped as Clint rubbed his face, cat-like across the hard length that was still covered by his boxers. "You smell even better than I imagined you would." Clint said, and that made Phil blush. His hard dick twitched under Clint's cheek, and Clint made an appreciative sound, and eased Phil's boxers down past his thighs. Phil wiggled a little to kick them all the way off.

"I want to make you feel good. I'm gonna make you feel so good, Phil." Clint went back to the cat-like rubbing and the feel of his cheek, a little prickly with stubble against the sensitive flesh of Phil's cock made him moan.

"Yeah, that's it, Phil. Moan for me. So I know what you like. Let me know when it's good. Gonna make it so good for you." Clint stopped talking to lick a stripe up the length of Phil's cock, and Phil moaned again, long and loud. Clint smiled wickedly up at him, and then took the head of Phil's cock in his mouth. Phil hitched himself up on his elbows, wanting to watch. Wanting to see Clint's mouth on him. Clint's eyes were closed, his forehead furrowed in concentration, and his cheeks working as he inched down Phil's length.

Phil watched, transfixed, as more and more of his cock disappeared into Clint's mouth. It felt incredible. Hot and tight and wet and perfect, but it was the visual that had him holding onto control by his fingernails. Phil knew he wasn't going to last very long, not when he felt his cock rubbing the back of Clint's throat. Then Clint started to swallow.

Clint seemed to have perfect control over his throat muscles and was using that expertise to drive Phil absolutely crazy.

"Fuck, Clint. Fuck that's good. That's so good..." Phil could tell that Clint would be grinning if his mouth wasn't otherwise occupied, and he hummed a little. Phil carefully stopped himself from bucking up into Clint's mouth and moaned long and loud. Clint hummed again, and then pulled back a little, massaging the underside of Phil's cock with strong sweeps of his hot tongue.

Phil was breathing fast and gripping the bed sheets in tight fists. He wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer.

"Clint, I'm close. I - " Whatever else he'd been planning to say vanished from his head as Clint sucked him down all the way, and swallowed around him again and again and again. Phil just barely managed to stop himself from thrusting as he shuddered and came down Clint's throat in a series of long pulses.

Phil sighed and collapsed on his back.

"God, that was... That was..." Phil didn't know what it was. It might have been the best blowjob of his life. He wasn't sure. His brain wasn't working. Clint seemed to have sucked it out through his cock.

Clint was crawling up his body, dropping a few light kisses along Phil's ribs as he went, and nosing through his chest hair before coming face to face with Phil. Phil managed to get one hand around the back of Clint's neck and pull him down for a kiss.

"That was amazing. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Clint said with a cocky grin, but his eyes were warm and happy.

"Now take your damn pants off so I can touch you."

"Yessir," Clint said, rolling onto his back and shimmying out of his jeans and underwear. Then he rolled onto his side, facing Phil. "Hi there."

"Hi yourself," Phil said, putting one hand in the middle of Clint's broad, muscular chest and then trailing his fingers slowly down. He'd seen Clint naked on a few occasions, as Clint tended to be out in the field more and had a penchant for getting himself into messy situations. Phil's years in the Army had taught him not to look, but now he could, and he did.

He trailed his fingers down Clint stomach, through the rough hair at his groin, and then stroked lightly up the hard shaft with his fingertips. It twitched under his touch.

"Nice," said Phil, continuing to stroke lightly, and looking up at Clint.

"Glad you like it," Clint said in a tone that was probably supposed to be sarcastic, but his heavy breathing and light shiver gave him away.

"I like it very much. I'm looking forward to having it inside me."

"Jesus, Phil," Clint gasped and his dick jumped under Phil's hand. "That's... that's, uh... something you want?"

Phil continued the light stroking, using all his fingers now, and moving a little faster from base to tip and back again.

"Yes," Phil said, looking straight into Clint's eyes. "Just because I don't have any recent experience doesn't mean I don't have fantasies. And, ah, toys."

Clint moaned.

"Fuck Phil, I'm gonna come."

"Just from this? Just from me touching you like this and telling you I want you to fuck me? You going to fuck me good and deep, Clint?"

"God. Yes. Phil." Clint's hips snapped forwards, thrusting into Phil's loose fist as he came. "Heh. Wow." Clint was gasping for air as he leaned his forehead on Phil's shoulder.

"You okay?" Phil asked, but he was smiling and he knew Clint would be able to hear it in his voice.

"Never better. Did you mean it?" Clint asked quietly, his face still hidden.

"Come here." Phil lay down on his back, wiped his sticky hand on the sheets, and then urged Clint into his arms. "Your strength and your skill have always been a huge turn on for me, Clint. So yes. I meant it when I said I want you to fuck me. But that's not all I want. I want couch cuddles in front of the TV, and romantic dinner dates, and lazy Sunday mornings together, too. How does that sound to you?"

"Like all I've ever wanted, Phil." Clint's head was tilted up so that he could see Phil's face. His eyes were bright. He sang softly.

 

_"Was a time when I wasn't sure, But you set my mind at ease  
There is no doubt, You're in my heart now."_

 

"You've been in my heart for a long time Clint. I love you."

Clint's smile was impossibly wide and impossibly bright.

"Good. That's good. 'Cause I love you too."

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to ereshai for the beta!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at:[ Jo Mathieson](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)


End file.
